Takedown Teague (Caged #1)(37)

My hands tightened into fists and ended up crushing the cigarette between my fingers. I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing the past out of the present before I opened them again and was met with the back view of the apartment building.

I saw cracked wooden shutters in need of paint and repair; crumbled bricks, litter, patchy grass, and a couple of broken beer bottles lay next to the steps of the back entrance. All around was a high, chain-link fence, which seemed to be a common theme in every aspect of my life now.

I resisted the urge to punch the dumpster. I knew from experience that I would only break a knuckle, and I couldn’t afford to do that. I had to be able to work this week. Instead, I drew in a few long breaths, pulled out another smoke, and then hot-boxed it on my way back into the building.

By the time I opened the door, the troublesome thoughts were gone from my mind. Tria had finished up the cleaning and was shoving various toiletry items into Buckingham Billfold. I glanced around at the empty apartment to see if we missed anything.

“I think this is it,” Tria said as she walked out of the bathroom. “And forty minutes to spare! I better get at least some of that deposit back.”

“You will,” I said, trying to reassure her. I had no idea if the landlord ever gave anyone any deposit back, but I could probably stop by and offer a little persuasion.

I heaved the last of the boxes up into my arms, and Tria opened the door for me. We split up long enough for me to take stuff upstairs and for her to return the key to the landlord. I dropped the boxes next to the kitchen table and surveyed the stuff.

There really wasn’t much, which was good because there weren’t going to be a lot of places to put it. Tria’s books took up as much room as anything, and I wondered where we were going to put those since I didn’t have any kind of bookcase. I considered the plywood and cinderblock nightstand I made out of shit I found lying around, and wondered if I could use similar materials to make Tria a place for her books.

There was a soft knock at the door, and I went to open it.

“You don’t have to knock,” I said with a smile. “You live here!”

Tria looked down at the ground, and her face flushed as she laughed through her nose.

“Well…I wasn’t sure…”

“Be sure,” I said. I handed her the key I had made for her and stepped back to let her in.

Tria walked in for the first time, took about two steps inside, and then stopped. She was gripping the massive purse in both hands, and I realized she was probably looking for a place to put it down, but the coffee table was covered with all kinds of crap. Aside from that, one of my jackets was lying in front of her on the floor, and there were a couple of hand weights near her feet, too.

“Um…shit,” I muttered. “Sorry—I’ll get it cleaned up.”

I started grabbing pizza boxes and beer bottles from the coffee table and shoving them into the kitchen trash can. When I got back into the living room, I noticed a stack of magazines on the far side of the coffee table and quickly rushed over to shove several editions of Playboy and Hustler underneath the couch.

“I never really have anyone over here,” I told her as I scurried around to pick up whatever was all over the floor and potentially just as offensive. “I should have thought about this before…shit…”

I kicked at the corner of the magazines to shove them further out of view and then grabbed some more dishes off the table. With a couple of plates and cups in my hands, I headed into the kitchen. Dirty dishes were scattered all over the place, too.

“Liam…um…”

“Yeah?” I called out as I started shoving a bunch of dishes into the sink so they at least weren’t lying all over the counters.

“You…um…”

“What?” I asked. I poked my head around the corner and saw her slowly shaking her head.

“This place is a disaster.”

I cringed as I looked around the room, seeing it as it must look through her eyes. I knew it was kind of a mess, but I never had company that wasn’t someone like Gary or Wade, so I never considered how bad it really looked.

Aside from the pizza boxes, dishes, wrappers, and bottles, there were free weights lying around, a couple of less offensive magazines on the floor, and a stack of junk mail piled so high it was falling over. There were CDs outside of their cases lying around all over the floor by the portable CD player, and stacks and stacks of cases all over the place.

“Yeah,” I admitted, “it is.”

“I’m going to help you get it cleaned up,” she said, and her tone left no room for discussion, and she hadn’t even seen the bathroom yet.

The bathroom.

Shit.

Were there cum stains on the tile in the shower? Did cum leave stains?

“Yeah, I could probably use a little help,” I agreed. “I’ll start in the bathroom.”

I shoved past her and closed the bathroom door behind me. I looked around apprehensively, feeling liked I’d never really looked at the condition of the room before. I quickly gathered up a pair of dirty boxers, a spare porn magazine, and a couple burrito wrappers. I had no idea how those had even gotten in here. I grabbed a washcloth and wiped down the sink, shower, and toilet to get rid of pee stains, stray hairs, and nail clippings. I shoved the stuff lying around on the sink into the medicine cabinet, realized she’d need some room for her own stuff, and pulled it back out again. I looked around for another place to stash razors, trimmers, and Q-tips so there would be a place for Tria’s things.